


A Battle Lost

by Cornerofmadness



Series: Boston [3]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Pre-Series, Suicide Attempt, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm knows he’s a step from death but even then his mind won’t let him rest.
Series: Boston [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642066
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	A Battle Lost

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** written for templefugate in comment_fic for the prompt Any, any, having a near death experience/seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and for the getyourwordsout Yahtzee prompt of a casino scene.
> 
> Warning: this deals with attempted suicide and all the pain and angst that goes with it.

XXX

He never expected to see a great white light. Malcolm didn’t ascribe to much in the way of his spiritual side. He knew he was dying. If he had to tell someone what he thought would happen after death, he always said he didn’t know. He hoped there was peace. He had to think that because of the two dozen bodies his father had left behind. He had to hope they were at least beyond pain and at peace. He wanted to be there himself but in his pursuit of that the light at the end of the long dark tunnel had never entered his mind.

“This is a figment of my imagination,” he muttered, “the last of my neurotransmitters giving me a final show.”

He hadn’t been ready for heaven or hell being real but ever curious, Malcolm made his way toward the light and exited inside a casino. He blinked. Nothing could have prepared him for a sea of cigarette smoke floating above the bright lights of banks of slot machines. Their noise assaulted his senses. Alarms, music, loud game sounds worked into his skull. Malcolm never suspected dying would be like this. What was his brain trying to tell him? None of this made any sense.

“How can Heaven be Las Vegas?”

“I’d say it’s more like hell.”

At the sound of his father’s voice, he whipped around, the lever of a one-armed bandit digging into his back. Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “You’re not here either.”

“No, of course not but every time you’re in crisis you conjure me up.” His father smiled that smarmy grin that made Malcolm want to punch him. He wished he wouldn’t see his father like this. He didn’t want his last thoughts to be taken up by this man. He wanted to see his mother and Ainsley. Where were Gil and Jackie? His friends from college? Why was it his father?

 _Because you have so much unresolved between you._. “Why would I be in hell? I’m not the murderer,” he replied.

“Well you did fail the honor thy father part of things.” His father put on his best innocent act and somehow dug up a strip of paper that he fed into the machine. He pushed the spin button and the thing came up three flaming sevens. “Oh look, jackpot!”

Malcolm rolled his eyes. “This makes no sense.”

“If it is hell, I’ll point out you did kill someone.” His father closed the distance between them. His lips nearly disappeared into his beard as he smiled. “You killed yourself or tried to. You’re not quite dead yet. Why, my boy?”

“Because I can’t find peace,” Malcolm whispered. “I lost my battle to hold on.”

He’d washed down his benzos with his scotch. His mother would be devastated and with what was left in him, Malcolm truly regretted that. Gil would be disappointed and Jackie would be shredded. He should have reached out but he couldn’t. He’d been paralyzed for days, so numb inside he’d zombie-walked through his classes, through his nights, unable to speak up even though he knew his friends and family would have been there for him. None of their good attentions could take away his hurt and Malcolm just couldn’t carry it anymore.

His father cupped Malcolm’s shoulder. “I think there’s more battles yet for you.”

Malcolm shook his head. “It’s too late. You’re not here and I’m in Vegas because that’s where I took Roisin just a few weeks ago for Spring Break. It was the last place I was happy.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to make sense of this.” His father shrugged. “But this isn’t our last conversation.”

His father faded away, taking the casino with him. For a moment, Malcolm thought he heard Roisin say, “he’s back.” He wanted to tell her he was sorry but he tumbled into darkness. When he finally surfaced, Malcolm found himself on the thin hard mattress of a hospital room. Every part of him hurt and his head throbbed against the thick cotton that had been poured into his skull from the feel of it. An IV snaked into his arm. He had no idea what was in it.

“He’s awake, Gil,” his mother said soft but panicked. She grabbed his hand enclosing it in both of hers and then said something he couldn’t remember her calling him in years. “Baby, you’re okay now.”

“Hey, kiddo.” Gil rested a hand on his shoulder. Malcolm could barely focus but even he could see the fear and pain in Gil’s eyes. “You just rest now. We’re here and we’re going to take care of you.”

Malcolm shut his eyes, lips trembling. It was not going to be all right any time soon but he was grateful to still be hanging on. It was hard and it was about to get harder. He didn’t know if he had it in him to keep fighting. All he could do was try.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author’s Note** The feelings here, the suicidal thoughts are a compilation of personal experiences with clinical depression and some from friends who have survived their attempts.
> 
> If you are dealing with depression and suicidal thoughts please reach out to others and/or call the [ National Suicide Prevention Lifeline](https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/) or text the [ crisis text line](https://www.crisistextline.org/suicide)


End file.
